Page 28 of Owned Bratva Bride

Then I went straight to the security monitors at the corner of the room. My eyes caught one particular camera feed. She was in the hallway outside her room, feet bare, hair framing her face.

I should go down there to make sure she’s not up to anything funny.

I could send someone—who am I kidding?

There was no point in denying it: Seeing her restless face on the screen made me itch. And heading over to that hallway was the only way I could scratch that itch.

I was already out of my office before I could think of stopping myself.

I padded along the dimly lit hallway, my eyes and ears alert for any sign of her.

I found her just as she stumbled into the wall near the end of the hallway. She let out a startled noise—that was when she saw me.

“Didn’t realize I had company.”

Her voice was sharp, and her face showed her defiance.

My eyes went lower. They shouldn’t have.

If they didn’t, I wouldn’t have noticed how her crop top clung to her body. I wouldn’t have noticed how the fullness of her breasts pushed against the thin material of the top.

But they did. And I couldn’t unsee.

I forced my eyes to her face, and I found her unblinking gaze on me.

The darkness curled around us as I took a step closer to her. She remained rooted to her position as I took another step, leaving no more than a few inches between us.

The silence between us was no ordinary silence; it was charged with a kind of heaviness I couldn’t quite decipher.

Her look showed no sign of the anger she had earlier—and that was probably why the next thing that came out of my mouth was, “What’s your name? You know mine.”

Those brown eyes didn’t leave mine as she answered, “Marielle.”

I nodded in acknowledgment before asking, “Why are you out here?”

“What? I can’t even move around?” she questioned, her voice daring.

“Trust me, you’re safer when you’re behind closed doors.”

She took a step closer, eradicating the tiny space between us.

I fought to control my breathing when her tiny forefinger landed on my chest through my pajama shirt.

“What if,” she started, her finger slowly sliding down my chest, “I begged you to ruin me.”

Between her words and the heat that washed over me, I lost control.

I fisted her hair, yanking her head back and pushing her against the wall.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I warned, my voice coming out rough. “I ruin things for real.”

I held her slender waist, and my body shook internally with hot desire as my eyes locked on hers. Right then, I was torn between the need to punish her for daring me and my desire to devour her until she was begging to be released.

Her victorious smile made me release her, my jaw tight in frustration.

She knows I lost.

She successfully broke my control.